I had seen enough through my binoculars to realize the Japanese had strategically figured out how to hold the Kakazu Gorge long before we arrived. Their position gave them the edge even without using their tunnels and the caves in the side of the steep cliffs. Even if our soldiers got far enough up the side, they’d still have to deal with those hidden tunnels probably filled with mine fields. I realized that the soldiers who had attacked the Japanese positions might not be able to get out from under the murderous return fire. Everything about the situation looked desperate. I watched a sergeant lead twelve men carrying litters back into the gully. I could hear the soldiers shouting back and forth.
“Stay close together,” Lieutenant Leo Ford shouted. “Stay down.”
A burst of machine-gun fire answered him. The volunteers who took on the mission kept hustling forward, but artillery fire remained so constant that the sound was nearly deafening.
The unit tried to find cover, but the heavy bullets of the machine guns ripped through everything in sight. Soldiers began to fall.
“Got to have more smoke cover,” Sergeant McElheran said.
“We lost the radio,” PFC Charles Bassett answered. “I’ll crawl back and see if I can find it.”
“Hurry!” Lieutenant Ford urged.
Bassett wiggled his way back and forth under the ground cover. Finally, he shouted that he found the walkie-talkie and quickly returned while mortar fire kept pounding them.
Lieutenant Ford worked his way under an outcropping of rock. “Good job, Charlie,” he said. “Give me the receiver.” They rang headquarters.
“Command!” the lieutenant shouted in the receiver. “Command!” For a moment, he listened. “We’ve got to have smoke cover. We’re out here on the side of the gorge trying to rescue the fallen. Give us smoke cover.”
Ford listened for a moment. “You stupid sonofabitch! I don’t care who you are. We’re out here getting killed. Now order the damn ground cover or you can come out here and carry out all the bodies by yourself!”
Whoever was on the other end of the phone obviously didn’t like Ford’s attitude. “I’m telling you the enemy are slaughtering us,” Ford shouted. “Listen, you ass! Get us ground cover or we’re all dead!” The lieutenant slammed the phone down.
“What’s the deal?” Bassett asked.
“That worthless piece of shit doesn’t know if they got any ground cover left!” the lieutenant howled. “He thinks they may be running out of the supply. We probably will have to pull out without that assistance. Is he nuts or what?”
Bassett shook his head. “No matter what, we got to get out of here.”
“What time is it?”
Charlie looked at his watch. “It’s about three thirty.”
“Okay. Let’s get the living together and work our way laterally toward the north slope. I know the men are badly shaken, but we can’t lose our heads. Got to play it cool.”
Charlie nodded. “Let’s get on with it.”
With every movement to the side, a burst of gunfire forced the men to the ground. Even the wounded had no alternative but to crawl. Slowly, they inched their way sideward. The litters proved to be more of a burden than an asset, as everyone needed to stay near the ground. Some of the wounded had to be dragged over a nonexistent trail they made up as they struggled along. Finally, most of their supply of ammunition ran out.
By four o’clock they reached a point opposite the north slope of Kakazu west. Abruptly, airplanes began diving out of the sky. The ground shook.
“Is that an F4U Corsair?” a solider asked.
“Looks like a Helldiver,” one of the men said.
“Maybe an Invader,” someone added.
“They’re gonna slam the Japanese,” Charlie Bassett said. “Watch out! They’re not that far from us.”
The men watched airplanes dive straight toward the cliffs, attacking the gorge with rockets and artillery. Rocks hurled through the air. Explosions sent boulders flying down the hillside. Debris struck the soldiers with stinging insult.
“Get in one of the caves!” Sergeant Bill McElheran screamed. “Stay out of the way of the rubble.”
Charlie and the remnant jumped into a small cave in front of them. Some of the men leaped headfirst into the rock shelter. The air attack continued relentlessly. For the first time, the soldiers were more afraid of our airplane attacks than of the Japanese. The terrifying explosions continued to rock the mountain. Ford knew they had to get out of there.
Bassett shouted for them not to leave the caves no matter what. The brass could shoot him, but to walk out there would have been nothing but sheer suicide.
Even in the dim light of the cave, he could see their eyes. The bravado had been drained out of them. Obviously, the men had crossed an invisible line that kept them thinking they might be invincible. Now they considered themselves expendable. Fear can do that to a man in the middle of battle.
Lieutenant Ford said as authoritatively as he could that they should give the situation a little time. The sun was going down, after all.
Ford realized that the only way to get the men out had to be to stretch the truth. He waited forty-five minutes, but nothing quieted down. Then he lied, telling the men that the smoke would cover them. He sent them out in groups of twos and threes. The wounded needed all the help they could give them.
Of course, there was no smoke.
* * *
With my binoculars, I watched the men emerge in small groups. Soldiers started making a break for it, but the Japanese kept firing. The wounded struggled to stay on their feet and some of the men had to crawl. One man came out from behind a rock and started shooting at the enemy coming in the opposite direction. Men were dragging along behind him, but he kept shooting at the enemy. He ran about forty yards toward the enemy and threw several grenades, silencing one of the machine guns trained on the escaping men.
Only later did I learn PFC Edward Moskala’s name. His gallantry proved to be unequaled. As the company withdrew, Moskala stayed behind and kept shooting. His buddies estimated that during the next three hours, the PFC must have killed at least twenty-five to thirty Japanese. Moskala had almost reached the bottom of the ravine when he realized that one of the men had been left behind. He turned around and went back, picked him up, and saved his life.
Without any letup in the artillery, the men slowly got out from under the murderous fire, but Moskala stayed and volunteered to protect their rear. His accuracy took out more of the enemy, but other wounded men needed help. Moskala couldn’t leave them on the battlefield, so he single-handedly carried them out. Finally, as he returned for another man, the Japanese shot him and Moskala fell mortally wounded.
When the struggle was over, the army recognized his service that fateful day. They described his actions as “unfaltering courage and complete devotion to his company’s mission and his comrades’ well-being.” He became the first Medal of Honor recipient in the 383rd Infantry.
Through the bravery of men like PFC Ed Moskala, the soldiers were finally able to evacuate and find their way out of the brutal, bloody struggle. A few worked their way out and to the unit’s base of operation by dusk. The sun had already set when the majority straggled in. A number of the men didn’t get back until the next day.
Some were crawling, a few barely walking. A couple of soldiers were dragging a makeshift litter pulling men too wounded to walk. Two of the wounded crawled in on their bellies. The struggle to escape had proved to be almost more than anyone could endure.